


Flowery Language

by whitchry9



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Flowers, Gen, Idiots in Love, Language of Flowers, Love Confessions, M/M, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26184400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitchry9/pseuds/whitchry9
Summary: Foggy knows that not all people are the best at expressing affection with words, but surely whoever it is could do better than anonymous bouquets of flowers.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 204
Collections: Daredevil and Defenders Exchange 2020





	Flowery Language

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saandy_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saandy_writes/gifts).



> For the prompt: flowers.

The first thing Foggy receives is a sunflower surrounded by leafy greens and deep purple stalks of tiny flowers.

He frowns, and double checks the tag that is indeed addressed to Franklin Nelson. There’s no note, no store logo, and no other information.

He shrugs and set the bouquet aside. When Matt arrives at work twenty minutes later, limping slightly, which Foggy made a note to address later, Matt sniffs the air and pauses.

“Flowers?” he asks.

“Yep. Not sure who they’re from, cause there’s no note or anything. It’s nice though. A sunflower, some purple ones, and some green things.” He frowns. “Would have been nice if they included the names of the flowers.”

Matt hums and limps into his office, closing the door behind him.

Foggy shrugs, assumes they were from one of their recent clients, and doesn’t think on it much more. Matt has a sprained ankle, and Foggy lectures him for a bit about that, and life goes on. The flowers wilt and fade, and eventually Karen throws them out while they’re not looking.

* * *

Then it happens again.

This time the flowers are delivered while they are all in the office. Karen is fighting with the printer, Matt is on the phone, and Foggy is attempting to wrangle an opening statement into something sensical when the delivery man arrives.

Karen takes a break from beating the printer into submission to greet him. “Can I help you?”

Even from his office, Foggy can see the bouquet he’s holding.

“Delivery for Franklin Nelson.”

Karen points at Foggy’s office, and the man nods.

“Delivery for you sir,” the man says. “Where would you like me to put them?”

“Uh, anywhere is fine. Who are they from?”

The guy shrugs. “No name. I guess a secret admirer.”

Foggy thanks the guy as he leaves. This time the bouquet contains little cards with the names of the flowers.

He recognizes the white roses easily, which are bundled in the middle of the bouquet. There are also purple flowers that the labels says are morning glories, and the rest of the bouquet is made of valerian, which looks a lot like a wildflower or maybe even a weed, with tiny petals and flowers arranged upon stems that divided further and further.

 _Weird,_ he thinks. But still nice.

In his office, Matt hangs up the phone.

“Foggy got more flowers,” Karen calls to him.

Matt frowns. “From who this time?”

Foggy shrugs. “Who knows. No note. It does say what the flowers are this time, which is good.”

“Smells nice,” Matt comments. “Better than the burnt coffee from this morning.”

“I apologized for that already!” Karen calls. “What more do you want?”

“I wasn’t implying anything,” Matt tells her. “Just saying that the flowers are a welcome distraction, olfactory wise.”

Karen snaps back at him, and Matt says something else, and Foggy has to get up to close his door so he can at least pretend to do some work, because this opening statement isn’t going to write itself.

* * *

Foggy is walking their latest client out of the office after a long meeting. Eunice is a lovely older woman who is part of a group of tenants they’re representing. Karen and Matt are both in court, and they’re alone in the office. As Foggy is leading her to the door, she spots something over his shoulder.

“Oh, what a lovely bouquet!” she exclaims. “Is that yours?”

Foggy spins around and sees what she’s indicating. “Oh yeah, that’s mine.” It had arrived only that morning, and he hasn’t had much time to admire it. He hasn’t even checked to see if it had cards to indicate the flower types again.

“Gardenias, clovers, and ferns,” she says. “Beautiful.” She looks over at him. “Someone really must love you Mr Nelson,” she adds.

Foggy inhales some of the mouthful of coffee he’d been trying to choke down, having forgotten when he took a swig that the cup had been there since this the morning, and was cold.

Eunice pats him on the back sympathetically as he coughs.

“Sorry what?” he says finally, when he can talk without choking.

“The flowers,” she explains. “I was a florist you know, in my younger days, and you never forget what they mean.”

He follows her into his office as she points each of the flowers out. “The red gardenias mean secret love. I’m guessing they’re not signed?”

He shakes his head.

“Of course. The white clover means ‘think of me’. A little difficult if you’re not sure who sent them, of course. And then there’s the ferns. They represent bonds of love. So like I said. Someone loves you Mr Nelson.”

“What about the other bouquets?” Foggy blurts out.

“This isn’t the first one?”

He shakes his head.

“Well, what was in the others?”

“The first one didn’t come with labels, but it included a sunflower.”

“Depending on the size could either mean adoration or haughtiness. I’d bet on the former.”

“The second one included… Uh… White roses, morning glories… And something else that I can’t remember.”

She smiles. “Well, morning glories are a symbol of affection. And white roses you say?” She hums. “I believe those say ‘I am worthy of you’. So whoever is sending these bouquets is trying to woo you and prove they’re someone worthy of your love. It might have been easier if you understood anything about flowers, but perhaps they were hoping you didn’t.”

She pats his hand, and it seems at some point he sank into his desk chair. “I’ll see myself out dear. You have a lot to think about.”

* * *

They win the case of Eunice and her fellow tenants, and in between their next few cases, Foggy reads about the language of flowers.

It turns out before Karen threw out the second bouquet, she’d taken the tags labelling the flowers and tucked them away in her desk, which is how Foggy knows the other flower in the second bouquet was valerian. According to various websites, valerian indicates readiness. Foggy has no clue what that means.

With a little more digging, he’s able to identify one of the flowers from the first bouquet as blue salvia, which means ‘I think of you’. He can’t identify the other flower from the first bouquet, but he’s still able to put together a pretty comprehensive understanding.

He is absolutely being ‘wooed’, as Eunice put it. He just needs to figure out who’s doing the wooing.

* * *

A fourth bouquet arrives and as soon as Foggy gets it, he checks the site he has saved for the meanings of the newest flowers, which the labels declare as heliotrope, white jasmine, and daffodils.

There’s a definite pattern this time.

Heliotrope, the bright purple flowers, are apparently highly toxic to cats and dogs, but mean eternal love. White jasmine, which are complex flowers that smell cloyingly sweet, mean sweet love. And then the daffodils, which he likely would have been able to recognize even without the labels, mean unequalled love.

Eternal love, sweet love, and unequalled love.

A definite pattern.

He consults his notes.

_Bouquet #1_

_Sunflower- (probably) adoration_

_Blue salvia- ‘I think of you’_

_??_

_Bouquet #2_

_Valerian- readiness (????)_

_Morning glories- affection_

_White roses- ‘I am worthy of you’ (!!!!)_

_Bouquet #3_

_Red gardenia- secret love_

_White clover- ‘think of me’_

_Ferns- bonds of love_

_Bouquet #4_

_White jasmine- sweet love_

_Heliotrope- eternal love_

_Daffodils- unequalled love_

“Shit,” Foggy says out loud, perhaps slightly louder than he meant to, because although Karen doesn’t appear to have heard, Matt is looking up from his refreshable braille display, looking somewhat concerned.

“Sorry. It’s nothing,” he says quietly, so only Matt can hear him. Matt shrugs a little and goes back to work.

There is no way Foggy is going to tell him about this, about being wooed by someone who is definitely in love with him, but who he has no clue is, and is almost certainly not interested, because his heart firmly belongs to another who is completely oblivious, and there’s no _point_ even thinking about that, except he is now, and the thought alone is enough to make him want to go swimming in the Hudson.

He groans, and rests his head on his desk, just for a little break.

“Still fine,” he says quietly, in case Matt is wondering what is going on. “Just a minor internal crisis. It’ll resolve by lunch.”

It would not, but Foggy could hope.

* * *

That night, after Matt has left work (to do Daredevilling, Foggy does not say, because Foggy is a responsible co-worker who doesn’t say things like that out loud in the office, but can certainly think them), Karen pops into his office.

“So, I uh… called that florist that keeps sending you the bouquets.”

Foggy groans. “Why. Why would you do that?”

Karen shrugs. “Curiosity I guess? Anyway I gave them a story about my boss ordering me to send a bouquet in response, but not telling me the address or even the person to send them to, and not wanting to ask because he was so mean, and cried a little bit, and the person on the phone gave me the name.”

She waits, grinning perhaps a little too shark-like with her win. Foggy’s seen Finding Nemo.

“And?” he prompts.

“They paid with a credit card. Amateur really, if you want to hide your identity. Plus, they keep pretty detailed records even without a credit card statement. If you really want to keep it a secret, you should buy the bouquets online using a prepaid credit card. That’s what-”

“Karen!” Foggy interrupts. “I get it. My admirer didn’t think this through with your level of machination. Who was it?”

She grins, with even more teeth this time, and Foggy can’t help but feel like he’s about to be told _fish are friends, not food._

“Matt,” she says. “Matt sent them.”

Knowing that, the level of dumbassery made sense.

“Oh.” Foggy says.

Then he remembers what the bouquets meant, and his knees suddenly get a little wobbly. He sinks back into the desk chair that thankfully is still there.

“ _Oh,”_ he says. “Oh no.”

Karen doesn’t respond, just leaves his office, and Foggy can’t decide if that’s better or worse.

“Oh,” he repeats to himself again, softer and more pained this time.

Well.

He needs to do a little bit more research on flowers before he can do anything else.

* * *

There’s a new bouquet in Foggy’s hands. This time, he is intimately familiar with the meanings of the flowers. The white flower, a camellia, is gorgeous, with rows of petals radiating out from the centre in perfect formation. This one, Foggy knows, means ‘you’re adorable’. Nestled around the large white flower is many purple flowers with golden centres. The petals are long and narrow and remind Foggy of daisies. These are asters and symbolize love. And finally, finishing off the bouquet, in a way that the florist tried very hard to talk Foggy out of, are black eyed Susans. The flowers are a deep gold, with a centre that is a dark brown. These flowers symbolize encouragement, motivation, and most importantly, justice.

Foggy hand delivers it to Matt’s desk on Monday morning. He pointedly does not ask about the bruise that is blossoming on Matt’s right cheekbone.

“What’s this?” he asks, feeling the bouquet.

“I figured it was time I reciprocated,” Foggy tells him, then flees to his own office.

He watches through the window as Matt gently touches each flower, and can practically see the mental math that is occurring. A few minutes later he boots up his laptop and braille display, but instead of using two hands like he normally does, one hand still gently caresses the petals.

Foggy forces himself to stop watching, and gets started on some work.

* * *

“What does this mean?” Matt asks.

Foggy looks up to find him in the doorway to his office.

“What?”

“The flowers. What do they mean?”

“I thought you’d be pretty fluent in flowers by now Matthew, seeing as how you gave me a lot of bouquets.”

Matt’s face turns red, and he turns away, but not before Foggy can see him.

“How did you know?”

“You’re really bad at keeping things a secret. You paid with a credit card.”

“Karen?” Matt asks.

“Karen,” Foggy confirms.

Matt sighs, shifts uncomfortably, his hands stretching and then clenching into fists. Foggy thinks if he’d brought his cane with him, he’d be playing with the strap on it.

“And… what did you think of the flowers?” he asks finally.

“I gave you a bouquet in response. Did you figure out what it means?” Foggy asks.

“Ah, the one flower is a camellia. Depending on the colour, it could have a couple of meanings.”

“It’s white.”

Matt blushes again. “A white camellia means ‘you’re adorable’. The other one is an aster, so they’re purple, right?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re… a symbol of love,” Matt says, not looking anywhere in Foggy’s direction. “And I’m not sure what the other ones are. Daisies? Something similar?”

“Black-eyed Susan,” Foggy tells him, watching for a reaction. “A little out of place in that bouquet. I had to fight the florist on them. You know what those mean?”

Matt hesitates, but shakes his head.

Foggy grins. “Justice.”

Matt laughs out loud, and the noise prompts Karen to look over. Foggy sees her smile a little and then turn back to her work, appearing very much like she wasn’t listening.

“I thought about getting a red chrysanthemum to include, sort of reciprocate, but as soon as I found out what black-eyed Susan meant, I knew I had to include it.”

“It’s perfect,” Matt tells him.

“Sort of forgot you can’t see colours. That could have gone badly.”

Matt grins. “Luckily the different colours of camellia mean similar things. Not the same as… say a red and yellow carnation.”

“I did not think through my declaration of reciprocated love very well,” Foggy declares. “I was a bit distracted by worrying if I was fucking up.”

Matt softens. “No. I don’t think you could ever fuck up. That’s my job.”

“You mean by giving me a flower that means ‘think of me’ anonymously? Yeah, that was a bit of a long shot.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he says quietly. “There was a reason they weren’t signed.” He pauses. “The white roses were a mistake. Wishful thinking.”

Foggy consults his notes. _White roses- ‘worthy of you’._

“Nah, they’re absolutely true.”

Matt raises an eyebrow. “I realize you probably looked up the meanings, but we should probably make sure we’re on the same page, just in case there’s a possibility for misunderstanding. Reliable sources and all that,” he rambles.

Foggy closes the distance between them before Matt can react. (Although really, Matt’s reflexes should be automatic, and more than enough to stop Foggy in his tracks if Matt was really concerned about his approach, and Foggy doesn’t have time to think about what it means that Matt doesn’t react, doesn’t have time to wonder if it means he is trusted, completely and fully.)

Foggy grabs Matt’s face in his hands and squishes his cheeks together a little bit to get Matt to stop talking. “You are absolutely worthy of me,” he says seriously, looking closely for any changes in Matt’s expression. “You don’t have to prove it by sending me flowers with secret messages that you are too afraid to say out loud.”

“I’m not afraid,” Matt protests, but his face is still being squished by Foggy, and it comes out muffled, which makes it sound a little silly, and certainly not as authoritative as Matt was probably hoping for.

Foggy rolls his eyes. “I’m giving you an unimpressed face right now.”

Because he knows Matt, has known Matt for many years, and the man is almost fearless, a fact which has been proven time and time again, by fighting armed gunmen and mob bosses and standing up in court and defending informants and dangerous criminals and taking risks like starting his own firm and jumping off rooftops. There’s a reason Daredevil has been nicknamed the man without fear.

But this is not Daredevil, this is Matt, Matt who is _almost_ fearless, and this is where the almost applies. Almost fearless because he has been told before he was not worthy of love or time or kindness, worthy of other people, and Foggy desperately wants to prove them all wrong, prove Matt wrong if he has to, because the man is absolutely worthy.

“You were not mistaken in giving them to me, you were exactly right. And now I’m gonna learn how to grow white roses, just so we always have them for you to give me,” Foggy says, and kisses him. He knows next to nothing about flowers, and certainly nothing about growing them, but this is one hobby that he thinks will pay off, big time.

Maybe Eunice would help. Foggy knows she’d certainly appreciate a happy ending to this story. Because he had a feeling it would be very happy indeed.


End file.
